Chapter 51: Superstar

Olivia was letting her curls cool down while finishing her makeup and watching MTV Cribs. She had just hung up on an awkward and unfulfilling conversation with her mother that left her with no answers about the true nature of her powers. She felt foolish, being almost 30 and asking such basic and borderline childish questions. Olivia didn't say the F word, trying not to freak her mother out in case she had no idea what her father really was. And it had been the right call because she did not.

Her mom and dad, Theresa and Daniel, had met at a Bruce Springsteen concert in New York when they were in their mid-twenties (painfully New Jerseyan, she knows). Her father had taken a trip to the big apple with some friends, and her mother got the tickets for her birthday. The concert turned into drinks at a bar, then into 3 AM pizza, and a walk at the central park at dawn, and before he knew it, her father was in love and cancelling his bus ticket back to Canada. She had heard the stupid story a million times. They dated for a couple of months before her mother accidentally got pregnant, and that's when her father told her about his gift because there was a chance it would pass it down to Olivia (newsflash, it did). It was your classic shotgun wedding meets green card ceremony and off they moved to the suburbs of New Jersey, happily married until they weren't.

According to her mom, her father had told her it was some kind of genetic disorder that enhanced the brain, and it took about three days of her father repeating everything Tess thought like a parrot for her to believe he wasn't bat shit crazy. The second most accepted theory (and that one she had heard from grandma herself) was that their family had been cursed by a witch generations ago. No mention of fairies at all. She knew her father had somehow discovered the truth. Those bedtime stories weren't just a fantasy he made up. But for whatever he chose not to tell anyone, and now she would never know why.

Olivia couldn't read minds or tell the truth any better or worse than a normal person while via the phone, but she believed her mother to be telling the truth. Why else would she lie?

It was still frustrating knowing you are different your whole life, just to find out you were so much more fucked up than you previously thought. And that the one person she could get answers from had left this world long ago. Why hadn't her father told her or her mother the truth? He had 16 whole years to do it. Did he think she wasn't ready to know? Or did he just think he had more time? This rabbit hole was only leading to more and more questions and no answers.

At least she had something to distract herself from the unending questions conjuring in her brain. This morning she had woken to the UPS delivery guy knocking on her door to give her a huge ivory box with a golden bow right on top. It was a gift from Eric, an outfit that she was supposed to wear to their 'meeting' tonight.

Once she opened the box, she found out it was very much not going to be a normal meeting. Nope, this was straight up a date. Eric had gifted her a stunning little lilac dress, with strappy shoulders, tight bodice and short flowy skirt, with silver heels and a black velvet box that contained a delicate diamond pendant necklace with matching earrings. He was cherishing her alright.

And yes, Olivia was well aware she was breaking her no dating rule. But at this point what rule hadn't she broken for Eric?

After letting her hair down, and fluffing her curls lose, Olivia packed up her makeup inside its little bag, eyeing the sharpened wooden stake she had hidden inside of it. Taking a deep breath, she closed up the bag deciding against bringing the weapon with her tonight. With Bill gone, there would be no need. Tonight she did not want to fight. She just wanted to pretend they were having a normal, regular business meeting while dressing cuter than usual, with about 20 grand worth of jewellery. Was that too much to ask?

There was a soft knock on the door, and her heart skipped a beat. Olivia turned off the TV, grabbed her purse (it didn't really match the outfit, but there were papers inside she needed Eric to sign), and opened the door. Eric stood outside, looking like if sex were a person. She should have followed her own rule of not dating and just invite him inside and let him fuck her brains out.

Eric wore a black tailor-made suit with a black button-up, top buttons undone. He had shaved and gotten a haircut. Smirking, Eric ate her with her eyes giving her goosebumps. Seriously, why were they leaving the house at all?

"You look absolutely stunning as always," he said, eyes feasting on her still.

"Thank you," she nodded, feeling her skin get flush. "Shall we?"

"You know what would make this night better?" He asked. If we just skipped to the end? "If we took the Corvette."

Olivia laughed. "Is that the whole reason you sent me gifts? To woo me into letting you drive my car?"

"I just miss her so much," he confessed, grinning.

Olivia tossed him the keys from the entryway key hook. Eric gave her a big smile before dashing around the house and disappearing around the corner. A moment later she heard the garage door open. Liv locked the front door and opened the front gate, letting him roll down the driveway slowly but loudly. She was going to make sure he filled up the tank and paid for it. Goddamn car was really freaking expensive to drive. With Eric being so busy Sheriffing around town lately, Olivia had been driving herself to and from work.

She got into the passenger seat, and he drove across town, making sharp fast turns and revving the engine as he pleased. Pedestrians and other drivers stared as they passed by, and for the first time in a long time, she did not mind the looks. She didn't mind being the centre of attention while she was with him simply because none of them mattered. At all.

Olivia just sat there and enjoyed the speed and the G-forces. She now knew how to drive the Corvette, but Eric knew how to make it fun. His right hand sat firmly high on her upper thigh avoiding her stitches, and his fingers behaved too, not wandering. But just watching him command the sports car, driving one handed, in a suit, a smug smile on his face, while touching her… She would be lying if she said this wasn't sexy as hell. That strange warm feeling took over her chest again. For that moment, she was just happy.

Taking back roads to avoid the highway, Eric pulled in front of a restaurant outside town she had only read about - the Maison de Paris. It had an enormous willow tree in front of it, wrapped in mini lights which hung down with loopy branches, making her look like it rained whimsical light.

There were no other cars around, and outside there was only the sound of crickets and frogs. Eric helped her get out of the car, and together they walked across the front garden. There was a burgundy red carpet leading up the path towards the front doors, going under and around the beautiful lit-up willow tree. The night was warm and beautiful. She, for one, was thankful for a quiet night. The company wasn't bad either.

Inside, the restaurant smelled like a luxurious hotel. It had classic French furniture, candles lit at every table and the light in its sparkly crystal chandelier was dimmed to give a perfect soft glow. Other than a speaker playing quiet classical music, there wasn't a soul in this place.

"Are you sure they are open?" Olivia asked. It was Saturday, and it wasn't a holiday, so it was rather strange there would be no guests.

"Yes, I made a reservation. Pick a table," he said, gesturing to the main salon.

She took a few steps into the eerie but romantic restaurant. She picked a table right in the middle, under the chandelier. He pulled the chair for her, and only when he sat across from her, a server entered the room with a wine menu. Once they were alone again, Liv stared at Eric, heart beating all over the place. What a strange, strange situation she had found herself in. After a couple of seconds of holding the menu, it clicked.

"You reserved the entire restaurant?"

"Of course," he said, a small curve in the corner of his lips appeared. "So we can talk without you having to mind block everyone else. I'm sure that gets tiring."

Her eyes widened, showing her utter shock. No one, not even her family had ever cared so much to accommodate her gifts. And obviously, no one else had ever gone the extra ten miles for her comfort like this, because she had never told anybody. Was this what she was missing out on all along? She momentarily thought of Jamie. Even if he knew, she doubted he would have ever done anything like this. In fact, he would probably get 'secretly' annoyed that he wouldn't get to enjoy trendy New York restaurants anymore because of her 'condition', and he would off-handedly remind her of his 'sacrifice' every time they ordered take-out. Just because Jaimie didn't hold back his thoughts, it didn't mean everything he said was nice to hear.

But not Eric. No, instead she got to enjoy his blue eyes across the table, all by herself.

"That's very… Kind of you," the words sounded strange as she said it.

And he noticed because he laughed.

The dress, the jewellery, the restaurant… Olivia had never gone on a date like this - even if they were about to speak business for the rest of the night. It was nice to have the memory. It was nice to know someone… Cared enough to do this, even if it was totally insane, or perhaps for entirely selfish or just practical reasons. The server came to take her wine order and brought back the whole bottle.

"You know what happens when I drink," she warned him, watching the young man pour her a glass and then he promptly left, just as quickly as he had come in.

"Ah, yes, you become extremely fun," he cocked a brow.

Olivia rolled her eyes, and before she caught herself flirting with him, she jumped right in. "So, what's up with you and Pam?"

"Wasting no time, I see," he sighed. After a moment, he spoke. "The Queen vetoed any and all of my involvement with the casino. I can't own any shares, manage it or be seen as a part of it whatsoever."

That was totally not answering the question, but what the hell? "What? Why?"

"Power," Eric answered simply.

It would make sense that being Sheriff and business owner of a large public business could threaten the Queen's power status, especially if people started thinking he was a heavier weight than Sophie-Anne. And make no mistake - he was. He could reign circles around her if he wanted. Keyword being if.

"Sophie-Anne feels threatened by you," Olivia frowned.

"It doesn't matter what she feels or not, having this kind of power doesn't come for free," his eyes hinted at sadness. There was a long quiet that went by. "She made me release Pamela to ensure I don't have any influence over her."
Olivia inhaled a small sharp breath of air. She had never experienced this kind of heartbreak before. The sadness in his eyes, the emptiness he felt, a deep and grieving anguish. It made her feel hurt too. No further questions were needed. She knew the Queen well enough to know exactly how it had happened. She made a thinly veiled threat, and then dolled out her punishment anyway. It happened on Tuesday, during her visit to the club. It was also the first night Eric had slipped into her bed. She understood now why he had held her so tight then as if she was the only person he had left.

It was because in a way, she was.

"That is idiotic, Pamela will always be loyal to you," Olivia said, still not believing what that villainous bitch had done, feeling blood pressure rise. "I'm so sorry, Eric."

"It's fine," it wasn't. "Pamela is doing fine without me."

The words came out empty. It was just a lie he was telling himself. Pam was really good at her job, she was a natural businesswoman, leader and entrepreneur, but she loved Eric deeply. She followed wherever he led, and was his devoted partner for over 100 years. She may need time to cool down when they had disagreements, but she always came back. Now their relationship had been severed in ways she would probably never understand. To say she 'was fine' was a blatant lie. Pamela may put on a brave face, but she would never be fine. All in the name of power and politics no less. If only Olivia could go back to that rooftop with the Governor.

"I should have never asked for Burell for that licence-"

"No," he assured her firmly. "It's the only thing that will save us in the end. We can't be in business with Anthony Grey forever."

"No we cannot," Olivia agreed, taking a sip of her rich and bold red wine. "He's gonna get us all sent to jail."

"And orange is not your colour," Eric said, leaning back in his chair. "Clashes with your hair."

"I'm glad you agree."

"I much prefer you wearing nothing at all," he grinned. Maybe it was because you could hear a pin drop in this place, but she realised if they were in a restaurant full of people, others would have heard his indecent comment.

She was thankful they were alone. "Oh, stop it."

Memories of last night replayed in her head, making heat waves ripple through her skin. The way he so skillfully held her so close to climaxing, but not allowing her to unless she said those two little words. She took a good look at the breathtaking, menace of a man across from her. Having her wasn't just about ego for him, was it?

The server came in, handing Olivia the food menu, explaining today's specials and then quickly exiting. The man, though completely professional and polite, was loudly and deadly afraid of Eric on the inside. She could hear every thought of his broadcast like radio, playing ten times louder than the classic music in the background. He kept his trips to the table short for a reason, and it wasn't in the name of privacy.

It was also odd picking out something to eat alone. She only now noticed the server had taken away his dishes, napkins and glassware. The table was now set for dinner for one. Eric watched her over the menu fold-out, eyes sparkling like the chandelier above them. He had never looked hotter.

"Are the options not to your liking?" He asked. "I thought the French had invented food-"

"No, they are all great," she lied. She hadn't even read it yet. "It's just weird to be ordering food alone."

"I can order synthetic blood if you'd like."

She made a face, doubting his offer. "And you'll drink it?"

"Oh, absolutely not."

"So you're just going to watch me eat?"

A devilish smile grew on his lips. "You watch me eat."

Good lord-

Olivia suppressed a dirty grin, trying to ignore him and focus on the french words in front of her. With the way he was looking at her, it took far more effort than it should have. The server came back moments later and Olivia ordered the dry-aged duck breast with parsnip vanilla creme, braised red cabbage and port wine jus. The young server complimented her on her excellent choice, and took the single menu away, disappearing quickly out back.

Olivia chuckled. "The poor thing is afraid of you."

"I know. I can tell by his heartbeat."

"You can hear people's heartbeats?"

He shrugged, nonchalant. "Far less impressive than hearing people's thoughts. What's he so afraid of? That I'm a vampire? How boring."

"Actually he's more afraid that you are in the mafia, than you being a vampire."

"Mafia?"

Olivia raised her eyebrows. For one the server was correct. Eric was kind of the kingpin of the local vampire mob, besides being an extremely intimidating vampire. Secondly, who the fuck reserves an entire restaurant for two people?

"I kind of like the sound of that, actually," he rested his elbows widely on the chair's armrest.

"Okay Corleone, let's not get carried away here," she teased. It was time to keep this meeting going. "So Pamela almost has all the money she needs, and once the commissioner approves the statements - which he will, I am vetting all the money myself before I submit it - then we have to work with the city council for the land purchase."

Eric nodded, only semi-interested. "Very well."

She now knew he wasn't a part of the Casino, but his own business very much still relied on it so she would keep him up to date. What she wouldn't do, however, was to get him to sign the papers she brought with her. Those would be just for Pamela now. Great.

A small silence fell over the table. Before she got a little too lost in his gaze, she cleared her throat, speaking up again. "How did Jessica take the news?"

"Oh, she was thrilled actually. Bill was quite a controlling Maker. He didn't let her drink real blood, or go out unsupervised. She was like his caged little pet. Now she'll get to have a taste of what being a vampire is actually like. And she won't suspect a thing, as long as she keeps drinking Pamela's cocktails."

"Drinking her what?"

"Has Lafayette explained what he does to vampire blood to prevent us from becoming connected to our buyers?"

She vaguely remembered him explaining it to her, but that had been months ago. "He mixes in some kind of blood thinners with blood pressure medication? I think?"

"Alpha-blockers," Eric reminded her. "It can also dampen the prodigy-maker bond. This way Bill has no way of summoning Jessica to his aid. Pam will be adding the crushed up pills to her Tru Blood, which she drinks for whatever reason."

His genius never ceased to amaze her. There was a reason Eric had lived this long, and became this powerful. Was that how he had known Godric was alive in Dallas? Because he would have felt otherwise? But then again, if Godric was in trouble, why didn't he summon Eric to rescue him?

And at the same time, something about last night hadn't sat right with her. Bill's demise, it was not… Final enough. "So as long as Jessica drinks it once in a while, she will have no idea?"

"I might dare say she might even hope Bill never comes back." He assured her.

Olivia poured herself another shallow glass of red wine. Its burgundy colour reminded her of blood. There had been so much of it in her life. Blood given, blood taken, blood spilled, and blood sold.

Was that it? Case closed? Bill Compton was another enemy out of play. Just like that? There was a bitterness in her mouth that did not come from the wine.

"So as long as the fickle whims of a teenage vampire are met, all is just swell?"

He tilted his head. "Are you still mad I didn't let you kill him with that toy stake? I thought you'd be grateful-"

"For what? For just sitting pretty while you take care of all my problems?"

Eric leaned forward, a dark shadow crossing his features. "Why are you so reluctant to let me take care of you?"

"Because people who care for me get hurt, Eric."

"Who got hurt?"

Tommy did. Countless times.

When they were little, other kids thought Olivia was weird and creepy. Her cousin Tommy stood up against bullies in the schoolyard and got his ass kicked more than once. Granted, he also did get into plenty of trouble on his own accord growing up. From selling old school tests to junior kids to brewing his own beer in college and selling to frat houses (yes, it tasted like horse piss), to running schemes of all kinds. He could sweet-talk his way into and out of trouble, and almost always back into trouble again. But he always protected her, despite only being cousins.

But the real tragedy started to unfold when she turned 21. After Olivia left for Princeton, she did not go home to Newark very often as her relationship with her mother was rocky at best then. But Tommy came down to visit often, and he would take her and her friends to Atlantic City for fun nights out. And because he knew what Olivia could do, he had the brilliant idea of making quick cash on weekends together by hitting the poker tables at Casinos.

Soon enough, they were going to AC every weekend. Tommy would front her the money for higher rolling tables of poker, and Olivia would clean up. On Sunday nights, they would split the money. Turns out, they were running an extremely profitable game, often doubling or even tripling Tommy's initial investment.

Tommy, having zero foresight as always, spent all his cut almost as quickly as he made it. He bought his first sports car, expensive clothes, went on lavish trips to Cancun and Miami while she had midterms, kept three high-maintenance girlfriends and generally just fucked around a lot. And Olivia, who learned how to be discreet and smart from an early age, used her half for tuition, rent and groceries. But also, spring break in Miami was a must.

As you can guess, they got greedy. As she climbed up the stakes, she considered lowering her winning ratio to match her competitors so as to not attract attention. That did not sit well with Tommy, who talked her into upping her game, and stupidly, she agreed.

But soon enough, Atlantic City caught on. They were never charged with anything, but they got banned and blacklisted from every single Casino in that whole town within a year. That's when Tommy started taking her to private games. He trusted she would catch on if they were in trouble, and they created a system for communicating non-verbally. She would read his mind, and with a touch of the ear, a certain look, or fiddling with her rings, he would understand what to do, say or get them the hell out of there.

It was a perfect system until it wasn't. They got into a private game with some Russians. Olivia, as you might guess, does not speak Russian. She had to play the role of a handsy flirty drunk in order to touch the two players who flanked her in order to mindread their cards, and even then it was a spotty read at best. She wasn't good at visualising images like her father was. She never asked, but she knew that's how her father won so many boxing matches. He could literally see them coming, giving him an advantage in his reaction time.

God, just thinking about what happened that weekend made her angry and ashamed at how stupid and reckless she was.

Olivia won that game somehow, by pure luck of the draw. The Russians took offence to it, losing to a messy drunk girl. Later that weekend they found Tommy in his hotel room and kicked the ever living shit out of him. He suffered a concussion, lost three teeth, fractured ocular bone, 5 broken ribs, ruptured spleen, a broken hip and a shattered knee cap. He spent two weeks in the ICU and five months in the hospital. He disguised it pretty well with his lanky boyish charm, but he walked with a small limp to this day. It was one of the reasons she avoided her family to this day. Seeing the pain she caused her cousin because of her recklessness was more than she could bear, even though not a single part of Tommy blamed her for what had happened.

But how could she not blame herself? She won at the wrong game. It was Olivia the Russians players were after that night and he refused to tell them where she was that night - safely at a friend's house doing an all-nighter for the advanced quantitative methods final class project. So instead, they almost killed him.

That's what happened to people who tried to protect her. That's the price they paid for her abusing her gifts. Her father cheated at his own game too, yes, but he alone took the beating for it in the ring. He never got anyone else hurt who hadn't agreed to fight him. That was the real reason why she refused to accept help. It wasn't entirely out of pride. It was out of shame and fear.

"I don't want anyone to get hurt because of me. Is that so hard to understand?" She answered after a long while, pouring herself a hell of a lot more wine.

Eric raised his chin. The candle lights flickered for a moment. "You are so much like Godric it scares me sometimes."

Olivia had no idea what to say to that. She remembered seeing Godric in his garden, ready to die for everyone's sins. She remembered thinking it was the coward's way out then. But knowing everything she knows now, being the person she is today, she wasn't so sure. Maybe that was the reason Godric did not summon Eric to his aid, fearing his progeny would get captured or hurt too. But as she knew now, Eric would stop at very little to protect what was his - Maker, progeny or human. This world, her world, was a lot more complicated than she had ever known.

Felling the topic looming over them like a shadow, she decided to put an end to it. What bothered her wasn't entirely about what happened to Bill, but about the many haunting things he had said. She was ready to find out how much more complicated her life was about to become.

"Eric, what does ascending mean?"

He took a pause, dreading the response. "It's the old term for turning."

She felt that coldness in her stomach again. "He wanted to know if you were going to turn me?"

"Yes," he said coldly. This topic was as uncomfortable for him as it was for her. "And before you ask, no, I am not going to."

Olivia felt he was holding back the second part of that sentence. One she feared she knew. I am not going to, but-

"Wouldn't that destroy all my fairyness? Turning me into a vampire, I mean?"

Eric's gaze became sharp. "That's not why I wouldn't turn you, but yes. If that is what he had planned for you, it's just another reason why I rest easy knowing where he is."

The question was right on the tip of her tongue. Did she actually want to know why he wouldn't turn her? Become her Maker? Own her destiny?

No, she did not. Long gone were the days when Olivia craved knowing everything.

"And what did he mean by 'the joining'?"

He seemed half disappointed by the question. "That, I do not know. But all his knowledge about what you are came second hand or from old dusty books written by shady figures. No one really knows the intricacies of fairy magic, not even Godric who has outlived most vampires. Whatever it was Bill believed, there's a good chance it's just a myth."

"Myth about what?"

"Does it matter?"

Of course it did! How could it not? They were talking about her nature, about what made her more than human, made her different from anyone else. The reason why she made rules, built walls, and lived in the shadows away from everyone else. She had been right to hide it from everyone. Well, almost everyone.

"It may not matter to you, but it sure as hell matters to me-"

"It shouldn't. It's settled. Bill is gone, and you are safe, Olivia."

She was not satisfied with that answer whatsoever. Life, her life, simply wasn't that easy. "How can you just say that?"

"When you live forever, you have to be very selective about what you care about," he said firmly, trying to end the argument.
"You said you cared about me," she pointed out as if she found the fatal flaw in his logic.

But he just proved himself right. "Exactly."

His simple answer was a shock to her system, hitting her heavier than the wine was. It was starting to sink in that his devotion for protecting may have nothing to do with the edict of protection anymore. Maybe it hadn't for a while. Not with the way he was looking at her. Even if they were in the middle of a crowd at that very moment, she doubted she could focus on anyone or anything else at the moment. There was just him.

Which is why when the server suddenly appeared next to her with a beautiful plate of food it startled her. He presented her meal, told her to enjoy it and promptly left.

This was a perfect moment as any to move on from that reality shattering topic and try her best to pretend it never had happened. Their agreement had an expiry date. She was still going to leave no matter what he felt.

Olivia was happy she didn't have to pretend to be enthralled by her food. Her plate looked like a painting, and the flavours in her mouth were sensational. Eric seemed perfectly content watching her enjoy herself. It was almost sinful to take another sip of her wine and wash away the rich and bold tastes of her meal.

The two discussed Fangtasia, and how she was managing the money integration of Grey's accounts into theirs. Eric seemed to know a lot about the topic, having laundered manually for years before she came along. Although, not as carefully as he should have been, or else Longshadow would not be at the bottom of the river right now. But Olivia had created, along with her Russian programmer/hacker Volac, a software that did most of the work for her. And not a penny went unaccounted for. It bounced the money around their accounts millions of times per minute, instead of dozens per hour. He also seemed perfectly content with that.

"And I can spend more time in the software to convert our money from crypto into liquid faster once the casino business is over. You just never know with coin, it's very unstable."

His brows knitted slightly. "When the casino business is over?"

"Once everything is approved and construction starts," she explained. "This operation will be so big Pamela will need her own accountant. And when the Casino becomes operational she will need a team of them. I can't work for both of you, there are only so many hours in the day-"

"So you are staying on with Fangtasia?"

"Of course," she didn't quite understand his doubt. "I'm your accountant, not hers."

Say that you are mine.

That seemed to make Eric the happiest she's seen him yet. The way he looked at her across the table gave her goosebumps again, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table. "Now, about that safe word…."

She rolled her eyes with a smile, finishing off the last of her wine. She was feeling the alcohol in her system take over her body. "We've been doing just fine without one."

The server strolled back in to take away her empty plate but he did not come alone. Another server, a young woman, entered the dining room pushing a dessert trolley full of pastries, cakes and other mouth watering delicacies. She had never been in a restaurant where they had those. She could have anything she wanted. Though the creme brulee would be the classic choice, she opted for the chocolate hazelnut souffle. It was as if the chef had somehow turned Nutella into a cloud that just melted into sugary decadent rain in her mouth.

"Goddammit," she murmured under breath. "This is good."

"Good," Eric nodded. "I'm glad you've let me cherish you."

"No, seriously," she took another bite, reaching into the hot centre. "This is the best thing I've eaten."

His lips curved, delighted. "We are even then."

She shook her head, hiding her shy smile. If she tasted anything like this souffle, she was surprised he didn't drain her dry. After he settled the bill, the two of them headed back to the car. The Corvette revved its engine as it cut through the backcountry roads of northern Louisiana. She watched the tall grass pass by the window, making waves with the night breeze. Fields of corn, and soy, quaint little farmhouses passed by, along with barns, grain silos and dense patches of forest, all covered in the pretty silver sheen of moonlight. His heavy hand rested on her upper thigh where it belonged. Her fingers gently interlaced his. She was happy again.

"Thank you," she said genuinely. "For the dress, and the jewellery and all of tonight. It was lovely."

He nodded, keeping his smug smile. They kept driving, and suddenly feeling curious, Olivia turned the music. She wanted to find out what kind of music Eric Northman listened to, other than sexy strip club pop songs. She was expecting either heavy metal or something old and obscure like old gregorian chants. But instead, he was listening to something she was very familiar with.

"Tchaikovsky?"

He shot her a quick glance. "You can tell it's Tchaikovsky within three seconds?"

"I danced ballet for a decade, so yes."

"Let me guess," he grinned. "You played Odette?"

Olivia laughed. The white swan in Swan Lake? "God no, I wasn't that good," although the girl who did get that role now danced with the School of American Ballet. "I was little swan number two. You know, in the Dance of the Cygnets."

She remembered it as if it was yesterday. She was about 12, and they spent two months tripping over each other at rehearsals before they were even remotely in sync. It was fun though when they did get it. Her mother had it on VHS tape somewhere. Eric, however, quietly smirked as if she had told him a lame cheesy joke.

"What?"

"Nothing," and then out like a light, his smile vanished.

His focus now was on the rearview mirror, looking at the road behind them. Olivia looked over her shoulder, spotting a truck or SUV off in the distance, about 100 feet back.

"What is it?"

"We are being followed."

She looked at the muscle twitching in his jaw, then back at the single truck, following them steadily. "Are you sure?"

"I've taken three right turns, and he's still there," he said quietly, turning off the music. "Are you wearing your seatbelt?"

"Yes,"

"Good, now get down."

Looking back once again, she tried to reach into the truck with her senses, but she picked up nothing. They were either vampires or just too far away.

"Olivia!" Eric ordered her.

She slightly loosened her seat belt and scooched her butt down to the edge of the seat, while inclining her backrest down as much as it would go. Being such a low sports car, it didn't go much further. Her head was still peaking above the sill of the window.

In one fluid motion, his hand left her thigh and pulled on the gear stick and the car jerked forward, roaring. Every inch of her body was now glued to the seat. The music had been drowned out by the blaring trembling of the car, the engine shook everything. No number of Fast and Furious movies had prepared her for this moment. In a studied choreography, Eric manoeuvred the steering wheel and the gear stick, making the car spin 180 degrees, tires loudly screeching against the pavement. Her body tensed, grabbing the edge of her seat and door handle for dear life. The whole world spun with it, including the dinner in her stomach. They came to stop at a dark crossroads.

She could see the truck's headlights just peeking over the dashboard. The car was now idling ahead, in the middle of the road.

"Who are they?" Olivia asked quietly, her heartbeat blaring in her eardrums.

"Old friends, I suspect."

"We don't have any friends."

Her senses went out again, and she got nothing. Not even a whisper, just the rumbling noise of the Corvette, eager to race something. Eric's whole body looked tense with menace. Just beyond him, she could see another large vehicle coming from their left. Another light came from the other direction - there was a third truck coming from her right, stopping just twenty feet away from her seat. She didn't have to reach her powers out. Their anger was so vicious it hit her like a cold and acidic wave.

They were not vampires. But they had come to kill them.

Before she could say anything or try to distinguish any thoughts, Eric was on the move again. He shifted the stick, and his right arm shot above her head, grabbing the headrest of her seat. Looking through the rearview window, his foot hit the pedal and the car shot backwards, and the seatbelt dug into her chest tightly. She could watch all three vehicles chase them, taking both lanes of the road. Off to the distance, she could see a trail of dust lifting through the shallow fields. There were motorcycles, large ones, driving through the high grass, towards them. And then another two appeared just beside her window, driving just past the ditch. The trucks were closing in, and she could now spot men sitting on the cargo beds, black sticks hanging on their backs - rifles and shotguns.

Eric spun the car around yet again, and Olivia grabbed onto the door handle for dear life. They drove away from this army of trucks and bikes quickly gathering speed at their backs. Eric kept cold and calm, eyes focused on the road ahead like an F1 driver in Monaco.

"Where are we going?" She shouted over the sound of the engine.

"Back to the city-" there was a loud tink noise on the roof. "Shit! Stay down!"

Before she could process what that noise even was, there was another one and the tink took off her side mirror, which cracked and then disappeared. They were fucking shooting at them!

"We can outrun them, right? This is a fucking race car!" She yelled out, adrenaline and fear taking over her veins like poison.

"And they have souped-up trucks and Harley-Davidsons, guess we'll see."

A bullet went through the back windshield, exploding the glass into a million pieces, raining on their backs. Olivia let out an involuntary scream, and slid down the seat further, feeling small glass shards roll under her and poke her skin through the delicate fabric of her dress.

Eric swore under his breath in a language she did not understand, but it was enough to make her peek over the dashboard again. About 400 feet out at the top of a hill ahead, the road had been blocked off completely with at least three trucks and a dozen large motorcycles. Men were standing outside of the vehicles with what she could only assume were more shotguns and rifles. But the car did not slow down. In fact, he drove faster towards them. She didn't even want to look at the speedometer, she could tell they were going far too fast to stop by the way her whole body was being pressed against the leather car seat.

They were still in the middle of farmland and trees, the city lights reflecting on the cloudy sky up ahead, still miles away. She could see a small road coming up to the left, just past a large group of moss covered oak trees. That was their last chance before the roadblock. Eric's hand moved the hand brake and he tugged on the steering wheel abruptly, tossing the car into a wide and very much blind left turn around the corner.

It happened faster than her brain could process. As the Corvette tires shrieked and scrapped against the dry dusty pavement, and inertia shoved her body forcefully against the door, the headlights revealed their final trap. There were unmanned pickup trucks blocking the blind road they had turned to, with their engines and lights off, just waiting for them in the dark. Eric hit the brakes with so much force the whole car jolted and cried. But it was far too late to stop.

Olivia and Eric came to the same realisation because their gazes met and locked at the very last second. For a brief instant, everything slowed down, time almost halted to a complete stop. They just looked at each other in silence, knowing they were out of time. Olivia looked at Eric. She looked deeply into those ocean blue eyes who always looked at her so intensely. Those eyes that studied her every movement, that noticed every detail, that devoured her every inch, that stalked her in the dark, those eyes that always told her the truth, those eyes that always cared for her. Her last hope, and she wished with all her heart, was that those eyes could see that all this time Olivia looked at him the very same way.

If not always, then at least now, in this eclipsing instant.

Olivia felt a suffocating fear that this moment would be their very last moment. She felt a deep pain in her heart, feeling it too full of things unsaid, of words unspoken, of emotions denied, of kisses not given, of passion not felt, of time robbed. That was her only regret.

A strange light swallowed them. And then-

The darkest oblivion yet.

AN:

Did you all really think I was going to give you multiple happy chapters in a row?

But in all seriousness, this was my absolute favourite chapter I have ever written. It just has so much vulnerability and realness between Eric and Olivia.

Even if unspoken.

xoxo